Your Disease Chapter 1: Outbreak
by RuinzOfBlood
Summary: Keegan Simplex II: Amoebic Meningicoccal Fasciitis'. Heh, sounds deadly huh? Well, House is about to find out just how deadly KSAMF is. In fact, the whole hospital will.


"Have you seen that movie, with Hayden Christensen, 'Awake?" House asked, sitting next to Wilson.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" Wilson asked, flipping through some papers.

"It's stupid!"

"How so?"

"A billionaire has a heart disease. He goes into surgery, for a heart transplant." House paused and looked at his wristwatch. "The doctors plan to kill him. They inject the heart. His mom, somehow figures all this out, and ODs on his heart meds. She gives him her heart. And he still survives, all while experiencing anesthesia awareness."

"So? I like the movie." Wilson replied, putting the papers in his desk.

"Huh. I can tell," House looked at his friend's attire. "Tell me Wilson, how long has it been since you were laid?"

"Legitimately?"

"Oh no, Wilson," House replied sarcastically, "I mean by a 10 year old Cambodian whore."

"You know I love me some Cambodian baseball." Wilson grinned at House's response.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

House picked up his pager, and rolled his eyes.

'_Hurry! ICU! Now! – EF'_

"Foreman needs help in the ICU," House sighed.

House walked to the ICU, and followed the sound of Foreman's voice.

"What have we here, Big Black?" House asked, looking at what Foreman was doing.

"18 year old Caucasian male. Massive seizures, severe anemia, bleeding from every orifice of his – Get me a crash cart!" Foreman yelled.

House poked his head into the hallway. "You heard the man! He needs a crash cart!"

House went to his office, and fell asleep.

"What the hell is _your _problem?!" Foreman growled, as he slammed his fists onto House's desk.

House woke up an looked at his colleague.

"What are you talking about?" House yawned.

"Back in the ICU?! Why didn't you fucking help me?! The patient could've died!"

"Could've. But he didn't."

"What the fuck is your fucking problem?! Are you fucking serious?!" Foreman spat venom as he yelled. "Thanks to _you_ I had to contact the CDC, and tell them about the patient!"

"And?" House asked.

"Princeton Plainsboro is now quarantined."

"What?!"

"The patient? In the ICU? He has a very deadly, not to mention contagious, virus! Does 'Keegan Simplex II: Amoebic Meningococcal Fasciitis ' ring a fucking bell?!"

"I thought KSAMF was a made-up thing that some loony cult thought up." House's eyes widened. "You mean to tell me –"

"IT'S REAL!" Foreman yelled.

"HOUSE!"

Foreman grinned. "Cuddy is pissed. And poor you, you have nowhere to run."

Cuddy broke House's office door, and tackled House to the ground.

"You son of a bitch!" Cuddy began to throttle House. "You, out of everyone here, should've known right away!"

Cuddy let go of House's neck, and punched him in the face.

"Everyone in the ICU – the whole ICU wing is fucking quarantined!" Cuddy screamed, as she stood up.

"And the rest of the hospital?" House asked, rubbing his neck.

"No one enters. No one leaves." Cuddy hissed.

Foreman began to cough violently, and then was on the floor convulsing.

House ran into the hall, grabbed a gurney, and ran back into his office. Cuddy helped lay Foreman on the gurney.

"Atavan! He needs Atavan!"

House retrieved a bottle of Atavan, and injected Foreman with it.

Cuddy, and House, ran Foreman to the ICU.

A man in a haz-mat suit greeted them, and took Foreman. He nodded.

"How many are dead?" House asked.

"Well…" the man in the suit paused. "Out of the 32 people in the ICU, 24 of them are dead."

"Shit." House muttered.

"How many deceased in the entire hospital?" Cuddy asked, nervously.

"253 living last night, staff included. 89 are left."

House led, a speechless, Cuddy back to his office.

"They sat on the floor in silence.

"164 people dead." Cuddy murmured.

"Surreal." House whispered. "This maze called life."

"Maze full of rooms."

"Rooms you're in, with certain people."

"My baby girl is at home." Cuddy's voice quivered. "My poor baby girl."

"Why can't you be impregnated"

Cuddy looked at House. House looked back. Cuddy could tell House was genuinely curious.

"Long story." Cuddy mumbled.

"I have time." House pulled out a bottle of whiskey, from his desk drawer.

"You don't want to know." Cuddy said nervously. "Believe me. You don't want to know."

"Try me." House replied.

"I went to the doctor a few years back. He said that my uterus, and cervix, were full with scar tissue." Cuddy shivered. "He tole me that I would never be able to have children."

House nodded, and took a swig of whiskey.

"I was seven, and I lived with my grandparents in the countryside. My grandma had two jobs. During the day she was a waitress, at night she worked at a factory. Graveyard shift." Cuddy took a sip of whiskey. "My grandpa couldn't work, he had an artificial leg. Every night, when Grandma was at the factory, he would tuck me into bed.

"More like 'fuck me into bed'. He…he wasn't a good man. Oh, sure, he seemed like it. He would have sex with me every night. Before, and after, he would say: '_God will punish you, if you don't let Grandpa do this_'. It happened for about four years. One night, I told my Grandma. She called me a liar.

"So I ran away."

House was silent for a couple minutes. "Damn."

He handed Cuddy the bottle of whiskey, and made a 'drink-up' motion.

"You're the only person who knows." Cuddy whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

House nodded, not knowing what to say.

"Do you…do you think I'm repulsive now?" Cuddy asked, crying now. "I know…stupid question…it's just…"

Cuddy began to sob. Without thinking House lifted up her chin, and looked at her. No talking. Nothing. He just looked at her. Gazing into her eyes.


End file.
